Politically Incorrect
by ImpalaTardis
Summary: SUPERWHOLOCK- The Doctor finds himself needing some specialist assistance as he finds many important members of the government with black eyes.
1. Sherlock, I'm pregnant

**A/N Hi guys! Haven't posted here in a while so it's good to be back! My cousin and I are writing this SUPERWHOLOCK fanfiction which will probably span around 4 chapters. If you like, please review and tell us what you think, if you hate, please review and tell us what you think**

**Here we go!**

John frowned as his eyes scanned the title of the newspaper article, 'PSCHOTIC KILLER DUO ON THE LOOSE'. Folding it over across his arm he called out to Sherlock. The detective had been in a strange crouching position for the majority of the afternoon, a focused look of intense concentration on his face.

"Sherlock?" He received no response from the other man, but this was hardly surprising. John tried again, "Sherlock, I'm pregnant." He deadpanned.

Sherlock's head snapped up and he turned quicker than John had ever seen him move to face him with a confused expression, as though John was an even bigger idiot than he'd previously guessed, "That's completely absurd. I knew you weren't of high intellect, John, but I assumed you'd know about basic human anatomy at least…"

"What? No! I was joking." John waved the newspaper for emphasis, "Remember the Winchesters? It was a big case a couple of years ago before they were killed in an explosion?"

"Yes, John. I remember how completely _convenient _that was. Highly convenient…." He muttered the last part, looking as though he was about to resume his earlier state of concentration.

Aware he was about to lose his audience, John carried on, "They're alive! And they just killed a man, look." He pointed to the small, grainy picture, evidently taken from some CCTV footage, "It says here that they followed a man to a car park, attacked him and chopped off his head with a machete. It was all caught on CCTV but the police can't find them."

Sherlock brought both his hands round onto the arm rests and pushed himself into a standing position, leaping from the chair to John and grabbing the paper from John who responded with an indignant, "Hey!"

The detective's face seemed to light up as he read the article, "The Winchesters! The serial killers." He frowned for a moment, "but beheading people in broad daylight? That doesn't sound like their sort of thing at all… So perhaps they're evolving. Not been noticed for years? That's enough to make anyone cocky. So they decided to take things one step further and that's where they made their mistake." Sherlock grinned, "They're extremely hard to catch, however. I doubt it will be long before they call in… a professional."

"What do you mean by a professional?" John snatched back the newspaper. There was a pause in which Sherlock stared at John pointedly, "Oh, you mean you? Sherlock, I doubt that they'd-"  
_Ring, ring._

_Ring, ring._

The sound of the phone cut John off, and he stared at in disbelief.

"Of course I mean me." Sherlock smiled again and picked up the phone.

"You are unbelievable." John sighed, although he was slightly amused, and sank into the armchair that Sherlock had just vacated, turning to the next page in the newspaper. He could hear Sherlock in the background.

"Yes, I just heard. Quite how the police managed not to notice that their most wanted criminals were loose is beyond me… Okay, yes, yes! I know exactly who they are, please skip to the part that is of remote importance… Okay… Interesting… What? No, I can't possibly out to America!... No, no, It's fine. I'll send my best man over."

At this, John stopped reading, "Sherlock, what are you doing?" he stood and marched towards his friend, who held the phone out of reach easily and ran to the other side of the room.

Sensing he was probably about to be tackled to the ground, Sherlock finished the call with a, "sorry, I really must go now." He quickly pressed the 'end call' button.

"Sherlock! I can't go to America!" John protested.

"Yes you can! They're booking you a flight as we speak…" he moved away from John.

"Why can't you come?" John asked exasperatedly.

"Well, one of us has to stay in London, and it doesn't make sense sending the superior brain all the way over to other side of the world just to catch a couple of criminals." Sherlock perched on the armchair again.

Realising that he probably couldn't win the argument, John sighed, resigned. He asked, "When do I leave, then?"

"One hour. I'll call you a cab to the airport whilst you pack."

John avoided cursing loudly by storming into his bedroom. He supposed it would probably be a sort of holiday, anyway. It would be difficult to be further away from Sherlock than the other side of the planet. What could be more hectic than his life in London?

* * *

_6 days later_

"We have almost succeeded. Our plan is going even better than we ever anticipated."

"Yes, it seems that we've as good as won. There are, however, issues that we must address that could interfere…"  
The Doctor leant against the extremely classy oak door of the highly confidential government building, evidently used to hold meetings, pressing his ear against it. For a confidential government building, it had been pretty easy to gain access. He'd simply parked his TARDIS in a store cupboard and strolled over to the most interesting looking door. The loud voices of people who did not think they could be heard permeated through the wood.

"Like what?"  
"Like Sherlock Holmes. He has to be eliminated. We can't risk him getting in the way of our plans."

"You think he's that much of a threat?"

"I do. We can't risk _anything." _

"Very well sir. I'll make arrangements to get rid of him."

"Good."

They were walking towards the door before The Doctor could move and so fell forwards into the room, landing on the ground next to where they stood.

A short, slightly awkward pause passed before The Doctor stood, brushing himself off. He smiled cheerfully and held out a hand to shake," Hello! This is all a bit awkward… I was looking for the toilet?"

The two men looked the opposite of convinced. Smart, expensive suits, long ties and neatly styled hair suggested they were fairly important in the government, important enough to want to keep a good appearance. A menacing air surrounded them.

The shorter of the two stepped forward, "No-one is supposed to be in here."  
"Yes." The doctor agreed, the cheerful smile still on his face, "I think I just got a bit lost. I'll be going then?" he strode back towards the door, but was stopped when an iron grip clutched him shoulder.

"You're not going anywhere." He growled. He swung his fist forward but his target ducked down easily. The man yelled in rage and as he and his partner made their way forward The Doctor was horrified to see their eyes flick to dark, soulless black.

"Weeeell I think I am." The Doctor detangled himself from the small suited man who had more strength than would be expected from a small, physically unintimidating man. Strength that was almost superhuman.

These men were demons.

He'd come across them before, but their plotting sounded as though it was far bigger than just two demons. How much more of the government were they in control of?

He needed a professional.

With a quick wave, he grinned and waved," goodbye!" before sprinting off down the corridor.

Footsteps thundered on the polished floor behind him, but The Doctor already had a head start. He swung himself round to take on the staircase, using two or three steps at a time in leaps before hitting the bottom and carrying on, the pursuers followed metres behind him.

Throwing open the store cupboard, The Doctor smiled in relief to see his TARDIS and quickly shut himself inside, ignoring the pounding of hell creatures on his door as he set the destination.

He needed to save Sherlock Holmes.

But first, he had to pay a quick visit to the Winchesters.

This was going to be brilliant.

* * *

John relaxed on a park bench, enjoying the scenery and the pleasant breeze that surrounded him in the warm summer sunlight. He sipped a tea, and although he had realised quickly after his arrival in Kansas that the tea they had to offer in America was rubbish, he still felt disappointed at its taste. He missed the kettle at his London flat.

It had not taken long for them to catch the Winchesters; only about 3 days had been spent. John had simply given Sherlock all the information via video call and the detective had been able to work out all the possible places that they could be as it was apparently 'obvious' that they'd be hiding in some kind of motel. John enjoyed the break, however, and although he missed the tea he definitely didn't miss Sherlock and his arrogant way of speaking. The FBI had a lot of interesting things for him to look at.

Despite this, he did miss the action just a little bit.

The small man had just got comfortable when the wind seemed to pick up, becoming so strong that some nearby trees even started to bend. A strange whooshing noise filled the air and John stood, shielding his eyes against the sun as a blue shape started to materialise in front of him.

_No_. That was impossible. Things don't just appear; you don't have to be Sherlock Holmes to know that.

But the evidence was right in front of him.

A blue Police Box.

In the middle of Lawrence, Kansas in America for god's sake!

John was about to approach the box when the doors opened and a man stepped out. He wore a long coat not unlike the one Sherlock liked to wear and ambled toward John purposefully.

"John Watson?"

"Yes, er, who are you and can you please tell me what the _hell_ is going on?" John was unnerved at the impossible situation that had been presented to him.

"Oh, yes, I'm the Doctor and you need to come with me." He spoke quickly, all the while motioning for John to follow.

"I'm not coming with you until you explain to me what was happening." There was no mistaking the cold tone to John's voice; he was not a man who could be ordered around.

The Doctor was impatient, "I don't have time to _chat_. Your friend Sherlock is going to be dead if you don't help me, and the two men you put in jail are innocent. Is that enough to be going on with?"

* * *

The jail cell stank of mould, sweat and a few other things too terrible to even acknowledge. Only a few metres was available to walk around in, meaning that Dean had been pacing for that past few hours, much to the annoyance of Sam who was laying on the bed staring at the ceiling and listening to the steady drip of a nearby faucet. Aside from the bed, there was a toilet and a sink that held the mystery of when they had been cleaned. Marks from dried sweat and the strong smell of puke wafted from the blanket on the bed which was probably only washed after at least every twenty uses.

Sam didn't know what they could possibly do.

They were, after all, the Winchesters and now they were caught, there was no way they'd easily let them escape.

"Sammy, this sucks." Dean moaned for about the fifteenth time since they'd been locked in the cell. They had been told that they would be transferred to a jail later that day.

"I know." Sam replied, the same response he'd given each time.

He'd made the same point several times already, but still Dean complained, "We were helping, too! That vamp would've killed loads of people if we hadn't 've stepped in."

"We can't exactly use that point, they'll never believe us."

"I just want some pie, Sam."

"Dean, you can't have any pie."

"Sammy, this sucks."

A police officer walked into the room that contained the cell. The brothers noticed the way he pulled his cap over his eyes suspiciously and immediately stood up; ready to face any threat they might be faced with.

It soon became apparent, though, that he wasn't there to kill them as he started to fiddle with the locks, jamming a key into the door and opening it quietly.

"Come on!"

The guy was British, and with a jolt Sam realised that it was the same guy that had helped them to be caught, "but you're…"  
"Do you want to go to jail or not? I'm going to get you out of here!"

Sam was about to protest further when Dean piped up from behind him, "Do as the guy says, Sam. I want outta this dump!"

Reluctantly, Sam followed the man from the room, Dean at the back of the small group. "How are you going to do this?" Sam asked, unconvinced of how successful this was going to be.

The man pointed, "We're parked here."

Sam and Dean found themselves looking at a blue Police Box that stood conspicuously at the end of the hall.

A man opened the door from the inside, gesturing hurriedly from them to join them, "Hurry up!" Sam noted that he was also British.

He also noted that the box appeared to be able to fit more than it should.

They had faced weird before, but still it made Sam sigh.

What were they getting themselves into?

**A/N Thanks for reading! Reviews would be highly appreciated**


	2. Honey, I shrunk the Impala

**A/N: Hey guys! Here's the second chapter, it looks as though it might turn out to be longer than expected, but we're gonna update regularly and hopefully have it all finished SOON **

**Thanks, please review if we're worthy :D**

Chapter_** 2**_

"Dean, it won't fit!"

"Try harder, it won't hurt, you just need to get the right angle."

"This was a stupid idea!"

"Aargh! You dropped it on my foot!"

"I told you it wasn't going to work!"

John chuckled amusedly at the two brothers from where he was stood next to the control panel of the TARDIS. When The Doctor had said they were going to London, the shorter brother with the bow-legs, Dean, had kicked up a massive fuss, refusing to go anywhere without his beloved car or, as he referred to it as, his 'baby'. Perhaps such an attachment to an object was unhealthy, but John was happy to watch the two hunters trying to fit a fully sized car into a small doorway.

The tall brother in need of a haircut, Sam, scowled at Dean as he strained to lift the car. Dean looked determined, but it seemed to be dawning on him as they struggled in the almost empty car park that it was unlikely to work.

An old woman walked through the car park and glanced at the two brothers before hurrying along to get in her own car.

"Fancy a cuppa?" John started as The Doctor seemed to appear at his side, holding a steaming mug of tea towards him.

"Thanks." John took a sip and nodded happily," Haven't had proper tea since I left London."

"We'll be back soon enough." The Doctor frowned at the two men trying to lift their car," they look like they could use a little help." With a flourish, he whipped a small device from his pocket," aha! Just what we need!"

"What's that?" John set his tea down on the floor and followed The Doctor over to Sam and Dean.

"Stand back!" The Doctor was saying, brandishing the device and pointing it at the Impala. "I know just the thing!"

"Hey, what?" Dean was distressed to see someone going anywhere near his baby, especially a possibly insane man with a magical time machine. "Doc, what're you doing?"

"Okay, in 3…2…1." He pressed the green button on the controller he was holding and a blast of light shot from it and enveloped Dean's car whilst Dean himself stared in horror at what was unfolding.

"Yes! That should to the trick!" The Doctor clapped his hands together and flashed a grin at Dean," it'll fit now."

Dean was too appalled to speak so instead opted to make furious hand gestures.

Sam kept a wary eye on his brother in case he decided to run over and attack someone.

Where the Impala had been, there was a small car the size of a scale model.

Silence.

Slowly, slowly, Dean bent down and picked up his tiny car.

"What the _hell_ is that?" Dean demanded.

The Doctor pointed to the device he held and smiled brightly," I suppose you'd call it a shrink ray? I helped out on planet… Kinjana, I think it was. They gave it to me as a gift, never had any reason to use it until now. It's pretty cool, innit?"

There was no reply from the hunter. He stalked into the TARDIS, face like thunder.

"Oh. I don't think he likes me very much…" The Doctor's eyes knit together.

Sam was trying not to laugh," he's like that with everyone at first. He'll warm up to you eventually." After seeing Dean's expression he added," Hopefully."

The Doctor leapt back into his TARDIS, "Well, we'd better be off."

He closed the doors once everyone was inside.

"Allons-y!"

* * *

"Dean?"

No response.

"Dean, are you okay?"

The TARDIS had just come to a stop and the hunter was paper white, breaking into a cold sweat. He gripped the railing, taking rapid, shallow breaths and had closed his eyes tightly.

"Dean, we've stopped."

Sam bent down beside him, trying to get his brother to relax.

John looked concerned and quickly checked Dean's pulse," is he okay?"

"He will be." Sam paused," he just _really_ doesn't like flying."

After a few minutes, Dean opened his eyes and looked up," I am _never _doing that again."

John sounded slightly impatient, "We need to go, The Doctor said Sherlock needs our help."

"Where are we?" Sam asked.

"Baker Street!" The Doctor called from the TARDIS entrance.

Dean stood up shakily," let's do this."

* * *

It looked as though Lestrade was having an exceptionally bad day.

At least, if throwing Sherlock across the room with highly unnatural strength for someone of his physical build was an indicator of a bad day. Probably there were many people who would want nothing more than to come to Sherlock's flat and beat him up. He hadn't predicted that Lestrade would be first, however.

The police officer had barely taken two steps into the flat before hitting the detective across the face hard. His eyes had turned black and he looked something other than human.

But that was impossible.

Nose bleeding profusely and whole body throbbing, Sherlock tried to make his way to the door, but that is a difficult feat when one is fighting against a creature of superior strength that does not want one to leave.

Sherlock was contemplating jumping out the window as 'Lestrade' pinned him to the ground and started punching him over and over until Sherlock's vision began to blur.

_Crash._

The door exploded inwards.

"I have a key, you know…" John sighed.

Water was now being thrown onto himself and Lestrade and for some reason it made Lestrade howl in pain, clutching the smoking area where it had splashed him. It was probably holy water, often used to protect against demons in some faiths, he supposed. Not that demons existed. Sherlock had never made room for any kind of myth or legend that would get in the way of his logical thought process and defy science.

Two other voices could be heard, American by the sound of them. _Ugh, Americans._

* * *

Dean gently pushed the baby Impala into his pocket and reached for his last remaining bottles of holy water. After taking one for himself he passed one to The Doctor who and the other to his brother.

"John, go and look after Sherlock. We will keep the demon off your back." Dean ordered. He nodded at Sam who stood next to him, prepared to move.

The two Americans and the alien readied the holy water, "On three: one… two… three!"

All hell broke loose as the trio relentlessly threw the holy water all over Lestrade's body. The demon writhed in pain, clutching at his burning skin and making a disconcerting sound of intense anger. It relinquished its grip on Sherlock, who quickly extracted himself from the fighting.

Too busy screaming in fury, 'Lestrade' didn't notice John scurrying past with a little first aid kit to help Sherlock who was lying behind his desk sheltering from the action.

"Are you okay?" he asked him.

Sherlock rolled his eyes," never better."

John set to work at assessing Sherlock's condition; he would be okay. He was lucky that they'd arrived when they had; if they hadn't, Sherlock may have been dead or worse.

Back in the frenzy the demon lunged at The Doctor unexpectedly. He stumbled back but once he regained his balance he poured the rest of his holy water over its head as Sam did the same from the other side. He hated to use any kind of violence, it made him feel sick, but from what he'd heard about demons over the years, there was really no other way to beat them. The demon groaned at the pain; it was clear in his face that it was aware that it would not be able to win.

With one last look at The Doctor, the demon expelled itself from Lestrade in a swirling column of black smoke.

Dean checked his pocket to see if the Impala was still there and undamaged from the fight with the demon. It was all in one piece, thankfully. After throwing a little more holy water over Lestrade's body, he rushed over to check if he had a pulse.

Sherlock and John crawled out from behind the desk. Sherlock's shirt was covered in blood but apart from that, he looked reasonably fine.

"Dude's alive." Dean gestured to Lestrade, who was thankfully still breathing," he'll be okay."

John joined Dean and checked the police officer over anyway. He would hate for Lestrade to not make it, he was the only one in the police force that ever listened to Sherlock and him.

"What was he?" Sherlock demanded, wiping his arm across his nose that was still bleeding slightly," who sent him?"  
Sam took a step towards Sherlock," That was a demon." He offered.

"That's absurd. Give me an explanation that does not involve magic." Sherlock folded his arms.

"It's true-" Sam was about to carry on but was cut off by Dean.

"You know what, jerk? We just saved your goddamn life and now you won't even listen to what we're saying? Me and my brother were arrested because of your idiocy and I think you should just shut the _hell_ up and let us do our jobs."

It looked as though Sherlock was about to reply with a scathing comment, probably about Dean's intellect, but thankfully it was at this point that The Doctor cut in.

"Okay, okay. I think we just need to _calm down_ here. The five of us are all here for a reason and if we can't all work together, then this won't work."

"What won't work?" Sam was relieved that The Doctor had stopped the argument; it would only have made matters worse.

"All across London, people are being turned into demons." The Doctor explained.

"Yeah, so?" Dean interjected.

"These aren't just any people, they're important people across the government."

"What, like the Prime Minister?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Him, his assistants... Soon it will be everyone. And if they are allowed that sort of power, they're able to control England, then the world. No-one will be safe."

"Where are we supposed to start in a mission of such magnitude?" Sherlock had assumed position lying on the sofa," it sounds like a suicide mission. I can think of only about 3 scenarios off the top of my head where we'd all survive."

The Doctor carried on talking eagerly," All of us together can do this. Sam and Dean know all about what we're up against."

Sam nodded," Yeah, there's not many others that know more than us about how to fight demons."

"Sherlock and John are the brains…"

"Hey!" exclaimed Dean, offended as not being seen as especially clever.

"What about you?" John turned to The Doctor.

"I'm always up for saving the world, aren't you?" The Doctor grinned.

"So," Dean said," we have to somehow get rid of all the demons who are controlling the government."

"Yes."

"And we can't exactly kill them, especially not the Prime Minister."

"Yes."

Sherlock sat up," well, I was quite bored anyway, John, we might as well." He seemed to still be trying to get his head around the fact that demons existed. John wondered what his reaction would be when he found out that The Doctor was an alien with a time machine.

Sam looked at Dean," we gonna get in on this?"  
Dean shrugged," do we have a choice?"

Finally, Sam confirmed to The Doctor," Yeah, we're in."

"What are we waiting for, then?" The Doctor clapped his hands together with energy that someone who had just fought a demon should not have. "Let's get this show on the road!"

**Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated... I'll try to get the next chapter up by Friday**


	3. Jack-ups

**A/N profuse apologies as this chapter is a day late. However, it is also the longest chapter yet! :D Hope you enjoy, we love you all for reading!**

**We would also like to thank the BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE who reviewed the last chapter, it really means a lot to us!**

**The title of this chapter is based off some slang my cousin baffled me with from Northamtonshire, a reference to wearing trousers that are too short and therefore show your ankles, also known as 'ankle swingers'.**

Chapter 3

"By the way, I love your hair, Doctor." Sam commented

The Doctor smiled and patted his carefully styled quiff affectionately. "Thanks! Not many people usually appreciate it. I love your hair, too, Sam. How do you get it so soft…?"

"Well, I condition it as often as possible," Sam gestured to his hair," You gotta use the best products if you want it to look good."

"Sam, now you look _and sound_ like a girl." Dean interjected from where he was sprawled on a nearby couch, sampling some cherry pie that Mrs Hudson had baked.

"There's nothing wrong with caring about your hair!" The Doctor argued, touching Sam's hair defensively," this sort of hair would be perfect to braid…"

Sam quickly moved away to sit on the empty armchair.

Dean laughed with his mouth full of pie, ignoring his brother's scowl.

The group were gathered in John and Sherlock's living room. Lestrade had been taken away, groggy and barely conscious, to the hospital and Sherlock and John had gone out to buy food for the large number of unexpected 'guests'. This left Sam, Dean and The Doctor waiting in the apartment; it seemed that they had resorted to talking about hair due to their boredom.

The trio had just gone quiet when a woman burst in to the room, brandishing a rolling pin," Who stole my pie?" she pointed the rolling pin threateningly at them, before her eyes landed on Dean. He blanched.

The guilty offender slowly lowered the spoon from his mouth," Um." Came his monosyllabic response.

"If you want pie, ask me first. I am _not_ your housekeeper." Her voice rose slightly.

At that moment, the door burst open for the third time that day; Sherlock and John ran inside, John laden with heavy shopping bags and Sherlock carrying nothing but looking around wildly for what threat Mrs Hudson could be under. His eyes locked on Dean.

Dean cringed," It was great pie, by the way." He offered.

Mrs Hudson smiled," Oh, really? Thank you!" She walked towards Dean and grabbed his cheeks," But you be careful, young man. Just remember: a moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips." She swaggered from the room.

The second the door swung shut again, everyone except Dean erupted into a fit of uncontrollable laughter (Sherlock would testify that he only giggled slightly). Dean glowered at the floor before finally standing up.

"Okay, okay. What are we all doing here, again?"

"Aha!" The Doctor exclaimed, jumping up onto the coffee table enthusiastically, "my quiff bounces…" he commented with an amused expression on his face. "Okay, back on track, I have a piece of paper somewhere… I can't seem to…" He patted himself down quickly before he found the desired item. His hand dove into the inside pocket of his coat and came out waving a piece of paper in their shocked faces. "I told you that I'd find it!"

"Um… Actually you said you couldn't find it." Sam said wiping the smile momentarily off The Doctor's face.

"No need to be a smart ass…" Dean grumbled under his breath, still upset about his pie.

The Doctor carried on once his smile reappeared, "So… once I get this bit of paper open I can show you my plan…" he said, encountering great difficulties trying to separate one side of the paper from the other.

"Do you want any help?" enquired John, trying to be as helpful as he could to the strange man. He had just walked in from the kitchen where he had discarded the shopping bags.

An assertive shake of the head was the answer.

After a few moments of struggle the paper was unfolded and unceremoniously placed on the table with a childish grin on The Doctor's face, "See what you can make of this I found it lying around the tip top secret government facility and it looked of mild importance." He squinted, peering at it, and muttered," It looks like a Slitheen drew it..."

"A what?" Sherlock asked in annoyance, it seemed like nothing was making sense today.

Sam walked up to it first, trying to make sense of the lines and words which were crudely drawn onto the paper. Giving up after a valiant attempt, Sherlock walked up and looked at it briefly. Immediately he knew what it was.

"This is a layout of the Ritz hotel. If I remember correctly, which I always do,"

John rolled his eyes.

"This is where all of the important MPs visiting London stay. The notes seem to be detailing all the possible escape routes with ideas on how to block them." He motioned towards the untidy scrawl," Judging by the untidy handwriting I would suggest that the man who designed this map was writing quickly with limited lighting. The only place this could be is the basement or a cellar."  
"There's a cellar in the Ritz?" John asked, joining Sherlock by the table.

"Correct. There is an unused wine cellar located under the lobby. If you were wondering how I knew that-"

"Okay, okay." Dean rose from his seat," The designer of the goddamn map doesn't even matter, why are you even explaining this?"

John snorted," He likes to show off…"

Sherlock made an indignant sound.

"Let's get back on track, shall we?" The Doctor was still standing on the table, impatient. "It's a map of the Ritz hotel, yes. Probably drawn by a demon, someone who knows the hotel well."

"That's what I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted by the idiot with the pie."

"What we need to do is to get more information." The Doctor swiftly regained control of the situation; his lips quirked up into a smile," you could say we need to get the dealio on the demonios… No, that doesn't work, does it?"

"We're going to stay at the Ritz?" Sam frowned," isn't that, like, _really_ expensive?"

Sherlock looked at him like he was an idiot," we're not going to _stay at _the Ritz, obviously. We just need information."

Sam gave Sherlock his best 'bitch face', which was ignored.

The detective carried on," so we will dress up to blend in and find out what's going on."

No-one said anything until Dean exclaimed incredulously, "Wait… dress up…?"

* * *

The improbable team found themselves all squashed into one cab.

Dean was the most outraged at the lack of room," If you hadn't 've shrunk my baby, we wouldn't have to take this stupid taxi." He was a like a petulant child, his car held tightly in his hand.

"I'll find a way to reverse it eventually, don't you worry!" The Doctor tried to assure him, but was met only by stony silence.

John, Sherlock and Dean were dressed as guests; a quick scan around Oxford Street had provided them with expensive designer suits bought with one of Dean's many stolen credit cards. The Doctor and Sam were still wearing their usual clothes, but this wouldn't be the case for long…

Finally, after almost two hours of taxi rides and shopping (Dean had shuddered at the mere suggestion at first, but the others had managed to coax him inside the shop with promise of pie upon their return), they arrived at the Ritz.

Getting in was easy.

Looking as they did, they (Sherlock, John and Dean) blended in almost effortlessly with the rich and sophisticated. Dean looked uncomfortable; Sherlock looked bored. John gasped at the flawless design of the place.

"Close your mouth John, people will stare." Sherlock chastised him.

John coughed and concentrated on the task at hand," Okay. Let's get this over with."

Sherlock nodded and sank into one of the soft armchairs that filled the lobby. He pulled out his phone," I'll text the moment anything suspicious happens here."

Trying not to grumble as Sherlock was the one who had the job of sitting on his ass the whole time, Dean turned to John," Well then, the two of us better get going."

Dean and John made their way into the main part of the hotel, striding purposefully. No one stopped them.

* * *

Sam and The Doctor had made their way into the hotel through the staff entrance and were now crouched behind a pillar in front of the laundry room. One man was inside; finally, he picked up his laundry and left. The two of them quickly ran into the room and locked the door behind them.

At the side of the room there was a rail with several freshly laundered uniforms worn by the waiting staff.

"Bingo." The doctor grinned.

The two of them picked a uniform each and turned to face either wall, aware that soon someone would discover the locked door and they would arouse suspicion.

* * *

Dean and John had been wandering the halls for about 45 minutes and so far had found nothing of interest. Sherlock had been texting with updates periodically, but the things he was saying had been far from informative:

_A couple of newly-weds. How delightful. Ugh- SH_

_That man is old enough to be her father, what was she thinking?- SH_

_That receptionist is showing the world her thong every time she turns around. How classy- SH_

Dean shook his head, amused, as he read over John's shoulder. "If Sherly's started people-watching, I don't think there's anything here interesting enough to be investigating."

John shrugged," I have to agree with you there…"

"Maybe we should try one of the meeting rooms? If any demonic MPs are hanging round, I'd bet that they've at least been there."

"Sure."

"Demons… Wow…" John sighed.

"What?" Dean asked, noticing the sudden change in John's tone.

"Just… Demons. They exist, apparently. Even Sherlock's having a hard time."

"I'd have thought he'd be someone who'd be able to see the truth that's right in front of him…"

The two of them pushed through a set of double doors.

"Yeah, but so far in his life the truth hadn't involved demons, monsters and aliens…" John elaborated," He's always managed to find the truth in logic and reality; this has all hit him very hard, even if he doesn't show it. I suppose he's just working with what he's got."  
"I suppose it'd be hard, after believing one thing for so long, to have someone prove to you something completely different. I don't exactly know any different, Sammy either."

"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you hadn't ever known about all of this?" John was curious to know more about the man now he'd started to open up.

Dean shrugged," if I'd grown up without all that stuff, I wouldn't be who I am today. Can't imagine myself being any different…" he paused," well, this is a meeting room."  
It looked like their moment had passed; Dean peered through the glass portion of the door," Can't see shit. We need to get in somehow…" he fiddled with the lock for a long minute before realising that the door was already open.

On the nearby table there was a stack of papers which Dean quickly and without care stuffed into his pockets," See anything?" he called out to John.

"Dean…" John warned.

Slowly, Dean turned around.

At the other end of the large room there was stood a woman and a man. Both wore smart suits.

Both had completely black eyes.

"Run." Dean commanded.

They ran.

* * *

"I can't wear this!" Sam spluttered, looking down at himself.

"Why not?" The Doctor was also dressed in the waiter uniform; black trousers and waistcoat with a white shirt. He adjusted his hair in the small mirror he produced from his pocket.

Sam gestured downwards. The bottom of the trousers reached a couple of inches above the bottom of his ankle, showing off a big proportion of his hairy calf and his bright white socks were rendered painfully obvious. "I need a bigger uniform."

"No time for that, Sam! Let's go and investigate!" The Doctor threw a white hand towel over his arm and strode through the doors, leaving the tall hunter with no choice but to follow.

Back in the hall, there was not much activity. They followed a couple of waiters wearing the same uniform until they found themselves in a grand dining room filled with the posh and sophisticated.

"Ah, I remember staying here a few years from now. The staff were quite nice, food was excellent. The other guests didn't seem to appreciate me stopping at their tables to chat, though…" The Doctor babbled away at Sam's side.

Sam's phone buzzed to reveal a message from Sherlock:

_MPs starting to arrive. Their high aggression could be linked to alcohol/drug/stress/ other- SH_

"Not good." Sam mentioned to The Doctor, who had received the same text," seems as though there might be something here after all…"

"Keep your eyes open. I'll have a chat with some of these business types, see if I can find out how exactly their stay is going…"

"Wait!" Sam pulled The Doctor back before he could wander off," What am I supposed to do?"  
"Wait some tables, waiter." The Doctor winked at Sam before sitting down on a spare seat at a table occupied by two women in suits.

Sam rolled his eyes and started working on clearing a nearby table. The first plate he picked up slipped through his fingers and smashed on the floor.

_What an excellent start._

* * *

_Bored._

_Bored._

_Bored._

Sherlock tapped the sides of his chair impatiently with his long fingers, watching the small crowds of people walk by, few of them taking any notice of the detective who was intently paying attention to everyone who walked past. He spotted mostly rich snobs and serious businesspeople. The businessmen and women were the ones he was scrutinising the most.

Briefly he wondered how on earth people could spend the whole day in an office, typing pointless business strategies and taking conference call after conference call with people you hate, having to see the same boring, money obsessed people each day and forever lusting after the life you always wanted before settling into the inescapable business world.

No, that was probably too harsh. Some businesspeople probably even derived enjoyment from their jobs. Sherlock know he would never be able to; he wouldn't exchange his life as a detective for anything. It was much too exciting.

It had been close to an hour before anything of interest happened. A large man blocked Sherlock's line of sight, forcing the detective to look up.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?"

"Obviously."

"Wow, in the flesh! I'm a huge fan of the blog." He offered his hand to shake, which Sherlock ignored," I'm busy, could you perhaps take your praise elsewhere?"

"I'm afraid not."

The sinister tone and comment preceded the drastic change in the man's appearance. His face drew back into a mocking, twisted grin, he smiled dangerously and his eyes turned into the same black that had been present with Lestrade earlier.

_Oh for goodness sake, another of those demons. _

Sherlock coughed," Well, it was lovely meeting you, but I must be going…"

He sprinted from the lobby, further into the hotel, pushing several people aside as he ran and hoping that he had managed to lose his pursuer. He texted with one hand as he ran, not even having to look at his phone, he had to warn the others.

* * *

Sam sheepishly cleaned up the smashed plates and headed towards the kitchen to discard of the mess. As he did so, his phone buzzed again. This message was a lot more urgent than the last:  
_BEING CHASED. GET OUT OF THERE- SH_

Ignoring the stares at his bare ankles, he made his way across the room towards The Doctor," We need to get out of here." He muttered under his breath, alternating between smiling pleasantly at the two women and flashing The Doctor a look of urgency.

"But we were having so much fun!" One of the women complained," This charming young man certainly knows the correct way to speak to a lady…"

"No, no. Sam's right. I'd best be off. "The Doctor stood after removing the napkin he had placed on his knee despite the fact he hadn't been eating anything.

"No. You're not going anywhere." The second woman rose from her seat as well.

Her eyes turned black.

Sam and the Doctor sped away, the bottom of Sam's trousers flapping against his ankles.

* * *

John knew they couldn't exactly run for much longer; there was nowhere left to run _to_. They seemed to have lost their pursuers momentarily, but there was no telling how long it would be before they were found again.

Dean was running alongside him. John suspected that the taller man could probably run a lot faster than he was currently but was unwilling to leave the army doctor behind.

The two of them stopped at a turning in the corridor, debating on whether to turn left or right.

At the same time, two others came barrelling down the other side, knocking into them: The Doctor and Sam.

"Are you guys okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. I think we lost the demons that were chasing us." Dean replied, before adding," Nice pants."

Sam looked down at his ankles self-consciously before scowling at him brother.

"Have you heard from Sherlock at all? Is he okay." John questioned the others.

"I'm right here!" The four turned to see Sherlock sauntering up the other turning.

"Okay. We're all here." Dean pointed down the way Sherlock had come from," Now let's get the hell outta here."

"Not so fast."

A voice sounded from behind them.

At least twenty demons in total were making their way up every turning. Dean swore.

One demon, probably the leader, made his way to the front of the group.

Dean, Sam, Sherlock and John all pulled out guns.

"What? I thought I said that we weren't bringing guns!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"Well, whoops." Dean said sarcastically," We've got bigger problems here now than your moral beliefs."  
The lead demon looked on, amused, before speaking," My name's Rob. Rob Harrison." His tone was smooth, but with his black eyes he looked anything but friendly. "You can leave with no trouble under one condition: you don't come after us again."  
Dean glared, flicking his gun off safety.

None of them backed down.

"Oh. You seem to doubt my seriousness. Well let's see about that. You see, I don't joke around. Politics is a very serious affair. If I don't keep my word, then who am I really going to convince?" he snapped his finger and the two burliest demons stepped forward towards the group. Before anyone could do anything, they grabbed John.

One demon held him from behind whilst the other punched him brutally in the face.

John groaned and fell unconscious.

The demons dragged him away.

"Hey!" Sam shouted, but he wasn't acknowledged.

Sherlock gritted his teeth and pulled the trigger on the pistol he held. The bullet didn't cause the demon to as much as flinch.

The lead demon, 'Rob', shrugged," We'll be keeping hold of him until we're done with our work in London. If you so much as come near this hotel or even try to stop us, we'll kill him immediately. Understood?"

No one spoke.

The Doctor grimaced.

Sam and especially Dean looked worried.

Sherlock's face was thunder.

* * *

They were 'escorted' from the hotel by more demons that held them forcibly. No one tried to fight, trying to save John would be suicide until they could work out a plan and none of them doubted their ruthlessness.

The taxi ride took place in stony silence. Sherlock stared out the window angrily. Sam and Dean awkwardly sat next to each other, not knowing what to say to console the detective. The Doctor sat next to Sherlock, relentlessly trying to convince him that they would succeed.

"We'll get him out of there, Sherlock. You have my word." The Doctor told him.

Sherlock didn't reply.

"Sherlock, look at me. Look at me." The Doctor didn't give up and finally Sherlock faced him. The Time Lord looked straight into Sherlock's eyes," Trust me. _We are going to save John_."

**A/N thanks so much for reading! Reviews will surely send us dancing round the house with sheer joy...**


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